The Wolf & The Dove
by Cerulean Lovelace
Summary: Vilkas is being stifled by life in Jorrvaskr, while seeking the adrenaline rush of battle he finds Runa held captive by a group of bandits. Alone in a strange country with no family, Runa will have to find a strength she never knew she had. As their lives become intertwined they will have to accept hard truths and learn the meaning of love and loyalty if they hope to survive.
1. Chapter 1: Prisoner

All around was the smell of damp. The rushes on the floor of her cell were damp and molding, the cold stone dripped day and night and the very walls seemed to weep sometimes. The dress she wore had once been a soft velvet, but it was soiled now, with mud and blood and she dared not think what else. And like everything in her little cage, it was damp, miserably damp.

In the beginning she had tried to count the days. The stone walls were soft and crumbling in places and she had used her fingernails to make a mark each day. But her nails had been broken and bloodied after only a week and now it hurt too much to keep track. Time soon became irrelevant. She had prayed to every god and daedra she had ever heard of for freedom, a champion to save her, and eventually for death, but the only answer she heard was the echoing of her own voice on the stone. Eventually she laid down to sleep and hoped that death would take her.

* * *

Vilkas was breaking his fast in the main hall when the heavy front doors of Jorrvaskr creaked open. He paid it no mind, the comings and goings of the companions at all hours was nothing new. He heard the sound of heavy steel boots on the wooden floor and the sounds of well oiled armor and he knew without needing to look that it was his twin brother Farkas, back from a job. The bigger man made his way around the table and plopped down next to Vilkas.

"Brother," grunted Farkas as he pulled a plate of sausages towards him. Vilkas nodded his acknowledgment and continued his breakfast. The silence between them was never uncomfortable, few words were needed to maintain the easy companionship they shared as brothers and as shield brothers.

When he had finished his food Vilkas headed out to the practice yard to do his morning drills. It had been too long since he'd had a real fight, he was itching for a foe that didn't die after one strike from his greatsword. Farkas practiced with him often enough, they knew each others movements as well as their own. But Vilkas craved the danger of someone who could match him blow for blow and make him feel that battle rush again. He took out his frustrations on a straw dummy instead.

By the time Vilkas had finished hacking at the straw dummy it was almost midday. He dropped heavily onto the ground to catch his breath and wiped the sweat from his eyes. It was no good. He had trained all morning and his frustration was still there, as tangible as the burning in his muscles. He heaved himself off the ground and trudged into Jorrvaskr for a bath and a midday meal.

* * *

After he'd washed off his sweat and had a bite to eat, Vilkas headed down to The Bannered Mare to ask old Hulda if she'd heard of any new bounties the Jarl may have put out. After his morning training session Vilkas knew he needed a real fight to alleviate his tension and the companions were slow on work at the moment. The Mare was a quaint establishment, it was one of the two inns in Whiterun and Vilkas had spent plenty of his nights drinking here. He thought the innkeeper, Hulda, might be a bit sweet on him to tell the truth and as a result she held onto bounties and tidbits of news for him. As luck would have it she had been saving a bit of information about a local bounty. He didn't even bother to buy a drink, instead he plopped a few septims on the counter as thanks and took the bit of parchment she offered him.

The letter was a bounty written in the Jarl's own hand detailing a handsome reward to anyone who could kill the bandit leader at Fort Greymoor. Vilkas was familiar with the fort, it had been little more than a crumbling ruin since he had first come to Whiterun. It was a short walk west of the city and it had been cleared of bandits and outlaws more times than he could count. But the fort itself sat at a fork in the imperial road and travelers were often harried on their way to the reach. Vilkas didn't think he'd find any mighty warriors among a cowardly bunch of bandits but it was better than nothing, and the promise of gold always sweetened a kill.

He had walked for about a quarter hour when he came upon The Western Watchtower, a sturdy old building, the watchtower served as a last outpost of guards before the road became more dangerous. Vilkas knew Fort Greymoor was just beyond the watchtower and he quickened his pace in anticipation. He could see the ruin looming in the distance and as he approached a steady rain began to fall. He cursed, the rain would make him less visible to any sentries on the walls but the sound of the water plinking on his steel armor would give him away if he needed the element of surprise in close quarters.

Despite the rain he managed to skirt around the walls of the fort to the unguarded entrance without alerting anyone. He drew his greatsword, the familiar weight of steel in his hand calming his furiously beating heart. He was a warrior, not meant to sneak around crumbling ruins, but it did him no good to rush into a situation blindly without a target. Vilkas waited there beneath the crumbling grey-green stone of the archway until he saw what he was looking for. A man dressed in mismatched leathers had come down off the walls and was making for the shelter of the tower, he was walking quickly with his head down to keep the rain out of his face. Vilkas seized the opportunity and rocketed out from beneath the archway. He hurtled towards the bandit and saw him turn, realization dawning on him a moment too late as Vilkas brought his greatsword down on his shoulder with a mighty heave. The skyforge steel sliced through the old leathers like paper and crushed the mans collar bone, biting deep into the flesh beneath. Vilkas brought his sword back up and twisted his grip, slicing sideways to take the mans head off as he fell to his knees. By now the alarm had been raised and he could see bandits swarming down from the walls and tower. Vilkas grinned and turned to meet the first of them with cold steel and an even colder smile.

* * *

After he had dispatched the dozen or so bandits that had accosted him in the yard, Vilkas made for the tower. The bandit leader had certainly not been among those he'd killed, their armor had been little more than tatters and their weapons rusty, the leader would keep the best of everything for himself. Before he could reach the door however, a man in steel plate burst out of it hefting a warhammer that could have crushed a mammoth's skull. Vilkas felt the tension in his stomach uncoil, the rush of battle was what he lived for and he hoped that this man and his warhammer could make him feel it.

He assumed a guard position, holding his ground as the the bandit walked warily towards him. Vilkas knew he couldn't let him gain too much ground, that warhammer would almost certainly have more reach than his greatsword. The offensive would be no good either, if he attacked hastily it would leave him open to attack. No, he would need to bait this man into charging in.

"Oy! You in the tin suit," he called out in a mocking tone. "Yes, you! What are you waiting for? I've killed all your men, no help will come from them."

If the bandit leader cared that all his men were dead he made no sign of it, instead he continued to size up his opponent cautiously slowly began to gain ground on Vilkas. Frustrated, Vilkas realized this man wasn't as stupid as he had hoped, taking the risk of an offensive move was the only choice left to him. Trying not to give any sign of his intentions, he tensed his muscles and charged. The bandit clumsily assumed the guard position and lowered his stance to better absorb the blow. But Vilkas knew then that he was fighting an amateur, the man had brought up his guard right away, giving Vilkas plenty of time to change his plan of attack. At the last second he pulled back and pivoted around behind the bandit, using the centrifugal force of the spin he brought the greatsword around in a wide arc and lopped off the bandits head in one clean motion.

He was disappointed, for a moment he had thought the bandit might actually prove to be a challenge, instead he was simply a coward hiding behind the best gear he could come by. Reluctantly, Vilkas began the work of hunting through the rest of the fort for survivors. He found no more bandits in the main fort or on the walls although there was plenty of plunder. He left the gold and jewelry where it lay, it had likely been stolen from travelers and taken off corpses and he wanted no part in that. He was about to give it up as a bad job when he noticed a small door near the stone archway he'd entered from. It turned out to be a prison of sorts. The front room was straightforward enough containing a desk and a single cell. In the days before the fort had been ruined it was likely used by whatever garrison was here for processing prisoners. As he continued in he had to pick his way day a crumbling stone staircase. The stones had a tendency to slip away underfoot even though they had seemed solid enough before he stepped on them. When he finally reached the bottom he drew his greatsword. If there was anyone down here they would have heard him coming a mile off. He stepped cautiously into the row of dank cells, making sure to check each one as he came upon it, until finally at the end he found one that was occupied. The occupant was a young girl in a the remnants of what might have once been a fine gown, she was curled up on molding rushes, whether she was asleep or dead wasn't immediately obvious.

"Oy, lass, are you alive?" Vilkas called out to her softly.

She stirred from her slumber and sat up, staring at him with hollow, sunken eyes. She looked like she may have been starving, her hair was so filthy that Vilkas couldn't tell what color it was. Now that she was sitting up he could see that she had been wearing had been fine indeed, the material was sodden and threadbare but he could still see costly embroidery and beading, she had likely been a wealthy traveler who was way-laid by the bandits. She hadn't spoken yet, only stared and the silence had begun to grow uncomfortable. Not knowing what to say, Vilkas decided to skip the conversation and break down the door.

"Stand back" he ordered. He brought down the pommel of his greatsword on the padlock and cleaved it in two. He opened the cell door and extended a hand to the girl, hoping she could walk, carrying her back to Whiterun in the rain would be an unpleasant end to a disappointing day. When she made no move to come with him he stepped into the cell, meaning to pick her up when she spoke for the first time.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her tone was flat and unemotional, it was the voice of someone who is resigned to their fate.

The question caught him off guard. It took him a few moments of confusion to realize that he was covered in blood and bits of brain from beheading the bandit leader.

"No..." he managed to say. "My name is Vilkas, I'm of the Companions of Jorrvaskr. I'm here to save you." That wasn't strictly true, he had come for a good fight, but he certainly didn't intend to leave her here to die in a cell. She took a hesitant step forward, relief written on her face, but she didn't quite make it across the cell. Her legs gave out and she fell, Vilkas only just caught her before she landed face down on the stone.

He shook her gently but she didn't wake, he cursed and slung her over his shoulder. Vilkas headed outside to begin the trek back to Whiterun and groaned in frustration. It was still raining.


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

Vilkas trudged back to Whiterun covered in mud, blood and carrying the girl he'd rescued on his back. It wasn't a long walk but the adrenaline rush of battle had long worn off by the time he had reached the city gates. His muscles screamed in protest under his heavy armor and the extra weight of the girl. The rain had driven most of the denizens of the city into their homes. Vilkas didn't mind, he was certain questions would have been asked and he was in no mood to stand around satisfying people's curiosity. He headed straight for the Temple of Kynareth in the Wind District, Danica Pure-Spring would fix the girl up, he was sure of it.

He entered the temple a bit hesitantly, it was an open and airy wood structure, much like the other buildings in Whiterun, but since the war had started it was always full of wounded soldiers. They burned incense day and night but the smells of death and illness never really left the building. Thankfully Danica noticed him right away, she had become accustomed to treating the companions wounds over the years and she clucked her tongue thinking he had been hurt again. The priestess stopped short when she saw the girl slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"Vilkas, you ruffian, where did you find this girl?" She chided, leading him to a bed. He bristled a bit at the implication that the state she was in was his fault.

"I saved her from the bandits holed up in Fort Greymoor if you must know," he grouched, back hurting more every moment.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and helped him to lay the girl down gently on the bed so she could be examined for injuries.

"Do you know her name or anything else about her?" Danica questioned as she felt up and down the girl's limbs to check for broken bones.

"No, nothing," he replied, stretching with a groan. "Send for me when she wakes, the companions will see her safely back to wherever she belongs."

"I will, now shoo, I have work to do," she said.

* * *

He had never hated the steps to Dragonsreach more than he did now. Vilkas was beginning to think he should have stayed at the temple and had Danica fix his back. _Maybe I'm just getting old, _he thought sourly. He was sure he'd enjoy wheedling his bounty out of the puffed up steward about as much as he had enjoyed his walk back from Fort Greymoor. Proventus Avenicci was a simpering fool, Vilkas theorized that the Jarl only kept him around to rage at when he gave poor counsel.

Vilkas pushed open the great double doors to Dragonsreach and strode purposefully down the length of the hall. Avenicci was arguing with Jarl Balgruuf's housecarl, Irileth. Vilkas was only too happy to interrupt them to inquire after his bounty. The haughty steward gave him a disgusted look and muttered something about getting blood on the carpets but bustled off to fetch his gold nonetheless.

Vilkas left Dragonsreach a few moments later with a hefty purse of septims and headed for Jorrvaskr to take his second bath of the day.

* * *

She had fallen asleep again, but this time it was restful and healing, not the fitful sleep she'd had in the damp cell. The last thing she remembered was fear and then a wave of relief. A big man was standing over her with an even bigger sword but she couldn't remember anything else. Somehow she was on a soft bed, she was dry and clean, though she still felt weak. A priestess bustled in with a plate of bread and cheese and set it on the bed table.

"So you've finally woken," the priestess said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel a bit...weak," she said lamely. "What is this place?"

"You're in The Temple of Kynareth in the city of Whiterun," said the priestess. "I'm Danica. Do you think you could tell me your name?"

"My name...?" She thought back to the time before the cell, it was foggy, and she was lightheaded. "Runa."

"Runa, then. I think perhaps you should get some more rest," said Danica. "Don't worry, you're quite safe here inside the city walls, so rest."

Danica laid a gentle hand on her head and she drifted back to sleep.

Runa woke the next day feeling considerably better, she sat up with a bit of effort and found that the dizziness in her head had subsided. She wobbled a bit when she tried to walk, but after a good meal her damp prison seemed a long time ago. Danica had helped her bathe and given her a linen tunic and wool leggings to wear, the dress she had been wearing had been beyond salvaging. Runa also discovered that they had sheared the majority of her hair off, it had been so matted and filthy they'd never have gotten it clean. Her head felt strangely light without the thick blond tresses hanging to her waist, the shorter strands barely brushed her shoulders now.

Now that Runa was up and walking around Danica decided it was time to call on Vilkas and get her back where she belonged.

* * *

Vilkas was inclined to grumble that Danica had called on him so early, but he pulled on a pair of leather breeches and a wool shirt and trudged off to the temple. When he came in he did not immediately recognize the young girl waiting for him as the same one he had carried out of Fort Greymoor. The filthy mat of hair was gone, replaced by shoulder length locks of gold. She'd lost the empty expression she'd worn in the cells in favor of a tired, but pleasant expression. As she stood to greet him he realized she wasn't as small as he'd initially thought, she was nearly the same height as he was, tall, even for a nord woman.

No_ wonder it nearly broke my back to carry her here, _he thought sulkily.

"I understand you're the man who saved me from those bandits. Danica said I might be able to find some more help from you, though I don't want to impose." She spoke softly, always minding her courtesies, not quite looking him in the face. All the telltale signs of the daughter of a highborn or wealthy family.

Vilkas was a bit surprised by her manner, hard to believe the girl he'd first set eyes on was highborn.

"Yes, why don't we start with names? I'm Vilkas," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

She followed the line of his arm up his body and to his face, studying him for a moment before she seemed to realize what she was doing. She quickly looked down and Vilkas could see her ears turning red. He ran a hand through his hair, not quite sure what to make of her before clearing his throat and speaking again.

"Were you going to introduce yourself?" He asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"I'm Runa," she murmured.

"Well, would you mind telling me how the companions can be of help to you?" His patience was quickly disappearing.

"I was hoping for an escort to Solitude...I...we were on our way there, my family and myself," she stammered. "The thing is, I'm not sure what happened to them, I don't remember how we got separated, I just know I woke up alone in that little cell."

Vilkas scratched his chin, considering. If she was highborn or even the daughter of a wealthy family then returning her home could come with a large reward. Gods knew if he couldn't lose himself in a good fight he'd settle for coin.

"Be ready by midday, we leave for Solitude today."


	3. Chapter 3: The Road

Runa met Vilkas in the marketplace at midday. Danica had found her a travelling cloak and a serviceable pair of calfskin boots for the trip but Vilkas was garbed quite differently. Instead of the plain clothes he'd worn to the temple he was outfitted in a set of ornamented steel armor, it was newly polished but had obviously seen him through many battles. She studied it for a while as they walked down to the stables, it was more a work of art in her eyes than anything. It even had the realistic likeness of a wolf head crafted masterfully onto the breastplate. Against her better judgement, Runa let her eyes wander upward to his face.

Beneath an untidy mop of black hair he had a strong face, although his square jaw coupled with his cold eyes made him look more than a bit unkind. She decided it was a good face, he had saved her and now he was helping her again, he must be a good person. She noticed a muscle in his jaw tightening and looked away quickly, afraid he had noticed her gaze.

* * *

Vilkas had haggled with the cart driver a bit over their fare but since then he hadn't spoken. She had tried to make conversation, asking about anything she could think of but his answers had grown shorter and eventually he started ignoring her altogether. The only time he had spoken of his own volition was when they passed Fort Greymoor.

"That's where I found you," he said, gesturing to the ruined fortress.

She shivered knowing this must have been the same way her family had come on their way to Solitude. After that he lapsed back into silence and Runa stopped trying to make conversation.

Her fear soon left her though. This road was a busy thoroughfare to Whiterun, the central most city in Skyrim, and they passed all manner of travelers. Hunters, farmers and imperial soldiers were among the most common, but there were also pilgrims, sellswords and even a khajiit caravan selling their wares. She was fascinated that so many people had flocked to Skyrim despite the war. Her own family had come to this country so her father could ply his trade and arrange suitable marriages for herself and her sister. A blanket of worry had settled over her, she hoped desperately that her family would be waiting in Solitude just as worried for her as she was for them. The knot in her stomach said otherwise.

By the time the sun was setting they had been sitting on the rough wooden benches for so long that Runa thought her back and buttocks would be purple with bruises. The driver called a halt and they made camp next to the road. He chattered aimlessly about their road and a settlement called Rorikstead but his talk died out when the moons came up and the wolves started howling.

* * *

The next day dawned cold and crisp and as boring as the last. Thus far they were still traveling through the plains and tundra of Whiterun hold and the farther afield they went the more rural it became. The stream of people they'd shared the road with yesterday had dwindled to almost nothing by midday. Runa had begun to feel drowsy and was beginning to doze when a shout from Vilkas woke her with a start.

"Stop! Turn the wagon around and slowly head back the way we came," he barked. Runa looked around for the source of trouble but only saw a cow ambling up the road towards them.

"We're bound for Dragon Bridge," protested the driver. "You can't really mean to head back to Whiterun now, we're nearly to Rorikstead!"

Vilkas hopped out the wagon and drew his greatsword. "There's a giant up ahead you fool. Didn't you see the painted cow?"

As the cow came closer Runa began to see what he spoke of, great swirls of black paint covered the shaggy hair of the animal. She had no idea why that meant there was a giant nearby but the driver seemed to understand and finally turned the cart around. But it seemed he hadn't done it soon enough, a giant had come shuffling around the corner with it's great club resting on his shoulder. Runa had heard stories of giants as a child and had imagined them to be as tall as a tower, all the tales told of their famed cruelty. The reality was quite different, the creature was about twice the height of Vilkas, it wasn't immediately hostile but cast a wary eye on the warrior in front of it. When it didn't attack Vilkas put away his sword and showed his hands with the palms up in a gesture of peace. The giant nodded and continued on his way, bypassing the road and giving the wagon a wide berth.

* * *

Vilkas had been hoping the giant wasn't spoiling for a fight and thankfully his hope hadn't been false. The companions had defended Whiterun from the unruly creatures in the past but left well enough alone they were usually peaceful creatures. He stepped back up into the wagon only to see the girl gaping at him.

"What is it?"

"I've never...I haven't," she mumbled.

"What is it?" He spoke more forcefully this time, his temper barely in check._  
_

"I've never seen a giant before. I didn't know they were so...small," she blurted.

Vilkas blinked stupidly a few times before it dawned on him that she must not be from Skyrim. The idea that she thought a giant to be small was so absurd, that he couldn't help but laugh. She looked as if he had grown another head when she heard his laughter but she smiled all the same.

"Why did he have a painted cow?" She asked when his laughter had finally died down.

"Farmers occasionally make offers of livestock to the giants so that they won't raid their farms," Vilkas replied. "The cow was painted so the giant would know it was an offering."

"Oh," she replied lamely. She didn't tell him about the childhood stories lest he think her a child.

* * *

They reached Rorikstead as evening set in and spent a more comfortable night at the inn. Runa noticed that Vilkas seemed more amiable than the previous day and the silence at supper was not so sullen and uncomfortable.

The next morning they left at first light and the road began to slant upward. The plains were behind them and the mountains were ahead, stony and silent.

Most of that day was quiet, they passed no travelers and saw no more giants. But as morning gave way to noon they began to see evidence of bandits. A farmer lay dead at a crossroads, his card overturned and everything of value gone. Further down the road they found a dead horse, still attached to it's splintered wagon, the driver was nowhere in sight. Vilkas made their driver stop and instructed him to head back to Rorikstead at any sign of trouble.

"Here, you may need this," he said, pulling a dagger from his belt. Runa thought he meant to give it to the driver but he handed it to her instead. And then he was off to scout ahead.

* * *

Vilkas came upon the camp about a half league from where he'd left the wagon. They had built on both sides of the road where it narrowed between two outcrops of rock. They had even built a bridge across the road to harry travelers from above. The archers nocked arrows at his approach and called warnings but he didn't heed them. He sprinted under the bridge, weaving to make a more difficult target. To the right of the road there was a gap in the rocks and a bandit in rusted iron armor stood guard. He cut the man down before he knew what was happening. The bandits had raised a crude wall of timber around their camp but the gate they had built had no strength to speak of so he threw his shoulder into it twice and it fell apart.

Once inside he was accosted by three more bandits, but they presented no more challenge than the guard. The archers proved to be more trouble, the cowards had retreated to the other side of the road and were fleeing toward the river. He gave chase but in the end they wound up drowned or broken on the rocks below the waterfall. Altogether it was a disappointment, he had barely broken a sweat and not one of them had withstood him.

* * *

Runa waited, on edge for Vilkas to return. When he finally came walking back up the road she let out an audible sigh.

"With this many hazards on the roads it's a wonder we've made it this far," she said as he climbed back into the wagon.

"Aye. The roads have never been this dangerous until now. The war is undoubtedly the reason for it," Vilkas replied. "The Jarls don't have enough men to patrol even around their cities let alone all the roads crisscrossing their holds."

After that they traveled in wary silence, always watching for signs of trouble. When the next town came into view, the tension lifted and wonder replaced it, the Dragon Bridge was a marvel of ancient craftsmanship.

"The Dragon Bridge has been here for much longer than the town," offered Vilkas. "They say it's a relic from the time that dragons roamed the skies of Tamriel."

"I would give anything to see a dragon," she said absentmindedly. Vilkas only chuckled.

They said goodbye to their wagon driver at Dragon Bridge, he had assured them that transport to Solitude could be arranged here but after he had gone they ran into another obstacle. The Penitus Oculatus had made the town their outpost and commandeered every horse for their use.

"It looks like we'll be walking the rest of the way to Solitude," said Vilkas. "The emperors guard is unlikely to yield up a horse even if we offer to buy it."

"How far is it?" Runa asked tentatively.

"It will probably take us a day on foot, but this stretch of road is well travelled so I don't anticipate any trouble. You'd best prepare for your feet to hurt though," he answered. "We'll spend the night here and set out in the morning."

Runa found that he had been more than right about her feet. She wasn't used to hard travel and her feet were covered in blisters and her legs burned and ached. It had been worth it though, they had reached Solitude before dark and she felt a weight lift as they entered the city. She felt certain that her family would be here and that the nightmare of the last few weeks was over.


	4. Chapter 4: Answers

Hi there! Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but I'm a bit busy with commissions and gift art right now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, things are really going to start moving a long at a good pace after this chapter. As always feel free to leave me a review or shoot me a pm, also please feel free to check out my deviantart page (yeah this is shameless self advertising). My username is londonsan.

* * *

Solitude was the largest and wealthiest city in Skyrim. Whiterun may have been the trade capital of the country but Solitude was the true capital, and not half as rustic. It's winding cobbled streets and stone facades reminded Runa of home so much that it hurt. There was a crisp, cold smell in the air, to be expected of a city so far north. But there was also a salty tang in the air from the sea of ghosts and much else besides. The smell of a forge, cookfires, spiced wine and roasting meat all drifted to her as they walked along. Vilkas detoured into the market to buy a jug of the aforementioned wine and they shared it as they made their way to the Blue Palace.

It was a long and winding walk to the Blue Palace, Runa knew she would probably have lost her way if Vilkas hadn't been there to guide her. Vilkas seemed to be in what you could almost call a good mood, he even smiled when a gaggle of children ran into their path and begged them for a game of hide and seek.

"You seem to know your way around the city," she commented as he sent the children off with a shake of his head.

"The companions do work all over Skyrim, sometimes we're called upon by the smallfolk and sometimes by the Jarls," he replied.

"What about the rest of the companions? I don't suppose I'll get to meet them now," she mused.

"You may yet if you stay in Solitude. Jarl Elisif calls on us more and more these days since so many of her men are off fighting for the legion."

"I'd like that," she said softly. They had arrived at the Blue Palace and she looked up at the massive structure. All at once the high stone towers felt cold and foreign and home seemed far away.

* * *

Vilkas could sense her unease as a guard escorted them into the palace. He didn't quite understand her discomfort, he had assumed she was highborn and wealthy, surely it couldn't be the palace itself that was intimidating her. The front room of the palace was as grand as the rest, richly furnished and decorated, it was obviously kept this way to make an impression. As it should, it had been the home of the High King of Skyrim. They were seated to wait for an audience with Jarl Elisif and he could smell the sour stench of fear rolling off her body in waves. He wasn't sure how to comfort her, if she had been a shield sister he might have put his hand on her shoulder but that was hardly appropriate for the daughter of a noble. Vilkas was still trying to puzzle out what to do when the Steward, Falk Firebeard, came to hear their case.

"Vilkas. It's good to see you my friend," greeted Falk. "I'm afraid Jarl Elisif is meeting with General Tullius at the moment so I've been sent to hear you out."

Vilkas nodded, since the death of High King Torygg, Elisif had left most affairs to Falk Firebeard.

"I've come as an escort this time. This is Runa," he explained. "I found her imprisoned by bandits just outside of Whiterun. She says her family was bound for Solitude when she was taken."

"I see," said Falk. He turned his attention to Runa. "What was your family's business in Solitude, child?"

* * *

Runa's stomach was churning, but she took a deep, calming breath and prepared herself to answer.

"My Father is a textile merchant. We were on our way from Cheydinhall to arrange to purchase a house in the city and set up shop. Father had hoped that he could arrange marriages for me and my sister Else as well," she explained. "I can't remember anything about being taken, so I don't know what happened or...if they're...," she finished lamely, feeling like she might cry.

"I am sorry," said Falk gently. "Could you tell me their names?"

"Haren is my Father, my mother is Betia and my sister is Else," she choked out. "Please tell me they're here, they have to be."

* * *

The Solitude graveyard was small but orderly. Among the mossy old headstones two fresh graves had been marked. Falk had told them that Haren and Betia had arrived in Solitude a fortnight past. Betia was already dead and Haren had a wounded shoulder. Despite their efforts to heal him the wound had turned and he had left the world fevered and ill. No word had come to them about Else.

Vilkas stood aside feeling very out of place while Runa sat by the graves. She had cried before, she had sobbed until her voice was hoarse but she was silent now. Vilkas would have preferred if she kept crying, at least then he could offer words of comfort, now he didn't know what to say.

The sun had sunken into the sea by the time she stood to leave. It promised to be a clear, cold night. They walked in silence to the inn, when they arrived Runa made to walk in without a second thought.

"Runa, wait," he said, catching her by the wrist. He wasn't sure why he did it, knowing there was nothing he could say to make this easier.

But she spoke before he could gather his thoughts.

"I want to go back to Whiterun with you," she said, grief mingling with determination in her voice. "Teach me, I want to become a companion."

For the first time she lifted her eyes and looked him in the face.

"I have to be able to fight. I have to find my little sister."


	5. Chapter 5: Doubts

"I told you from the beginning that it wouldn't be my decision," Vilkas repeated. "Kodlak is the Harbinger, and the companions is a group of warriors. Which, let's face it, you're not a warrior."

Vilkas had told her time and again but Runa refused to heed him. A stubborn streak had emerged in her and his hand was forced, in the end it would be for Kodlak to decide but that didn't mean he had to like it. A freezing drizzle of rain greeted them as they trudged down to the stables, Vilkas hoped it was not an omen for the trip back to Whiterun.

About four hours into the carriage ride and the rain had not stopped. Dragon Bridge had come and gone and Vilkas was soaked and shivering. He would have thought that Runa might have been as miserable as he was but if that was the case she didn't show it. Despite himself he had warmed to her a bit on the way to Solitude, but it seemed unlikely that she'd be much of a conversationist on the way back.

His mood worsened as the day went on and the rain did as well. By the time they made camp Vilkas was beginning to think that Runa was bad luck where the weather was concerned.

* * *

When the tall silhouette of Dragonsreach became visible through the morning fog, Runa finally lost her composure. She hadn't cried since Solitude, she told herself that if she was going to be a companion she had best not appear weak. But seeing Whiterun again had a finality to it, as if she'd left her life behind with the graves of her parents. She turned her face away from Vilkas and drew her knees up under her chin so he wouldn't see her tears.

Mercifully, Vilkas said nothing about her tears, either he didn't notice or had the tact not to mention it. By the time they reached the stables she had managed to regain her composure and he led her into the city. He took quick, purposeful strides towards Jorrvaskr, never glancing behind.

Whiterun no longer seemed like the welcoming city it had when she first arrived. The rain had stopped but a chill wind was blowing down from the surrounding mountains, biting any exposed flesh and bringing dark clouds that covered the sun. Passing through the empty marketplace she remember the bustling market of Solitude and sharing spiced wine with Vilkas. That had only been a few days ago, but it felt like another life. She had been so hopeful, ready for life to return to the way it had always been after her short adventure. She knew now that things were only going to keep changing and that idea terrified her.

In contrast to the unwelcoming weather, the mead hall of the companions looked rather inviting. Runa's spirits lifted a bit at the promise of dry clothes and a warm fire.

The fire was indeed a welcome comfort. Vilkas felt immediately at ease as familiar sounds and smells washed over him. No one took notice of them as they stepped over the threshold, frequent comings and goings being a common thing in the mead hall. A few of the warriors who called Jorrvaskr their home were breaking their fast here in the main hall but it seemed the rest of them were still abed. An old woman came bustling into the main hall and Vilkas whistled sharply to get her attention. She made her way over to where they were standing and looked sourly at the puddle that was quickly accumulating on the carpet from their sodden clothes.

"Tilma, can you find some dry clothes for our guest? Send her to me when you've finished, we're meeting with Kodlak," instructed Vilkas.

The old woman took Runa gently by the elbow and led her away.

* * *

After Tilma had led Runa away, Vilkas made his way downstairs to his own quarters to find dry clothes. It felt good to be back at Jorrvaskr now, but he knew that soon the restlessness would set in. He sighed and pushed his worries to the back of his mind, it was time to think of the task at hand. Digging around his dresser he pulled out a clean linen shirt and breeches.

After dressing he went to find Kodlak. The old man spent much of his time these days closeted in his chambers with his books. He hadn't endeavored to share whatever it was he was researching with anyone as of yet. Vilkas hoped to change that.

For once Kodlak was not locked in his chambers, he was taking a meal at the table at the end of the hall. Vilkas approached and casually took a seat opposite the old warrior.

"Welcome home," greeted Kodlak, looking up from his food. "I trust your job went as planned," he said casually.

"Not exactly," replied Vilkas. "We have a guest."

Kodlak raised his eyebrows but listened patiently as Vilkas told him the full story. The old warrior sat silently until Vilkas had finished speaking.

"It seems to me we may be able to give her a chance," Kodlak said thoughtfully. "Of course I'll have to speak to her myself first."

Vilkas was taken aback, he had thought for sure Kodlak would see reason. He immediately began to argue but Kodlak put up a hand to silence him.

"Nothing has been decided yet, Vilkas. Save your arguments for now. There's something more important I wish to discuss with you."

* * *

The old woman had gripped her elbow gently but with surprising firmness for someone of her age. Runa hadn't realized how comforting a presence Vilkas was until she was being led away from him. She looked back over her shoulder and saw his eyes were following her, an unreadable expression was on his face. He looked away quickly when he realized she was watching. Runa was trying to puzzle out his expression when her train of thought was interrupted.

"It's been a long time since Vilkas has brought a woman home. I'd say you should feel quite special," Tilma said, a mischievous glint in her rheumy eyes.

Runa immediately realized the assumption the old woman had made but a blush rose to her cheeks nonetheless.

"I think you have the wrong idea," she managed to say weakly.

"Oh nonsense, dear. You have no need to be shy, we're all adults here. Divines know we could use a happy couple around here to brighten things up," she said. The old woman blathered on at length and Runa nearly choked on her laughter trying to picture Vilkas as half of a happy couple.

Despite her assumptions, Tilma was kind and found her dry clothes quickly. She even brought Runa a cup of hot tea to warm her. The clothing was all too large for her but it was clean and dry and she was grateful. As she dressed a flower of anxiety bloomed within her. Joining the companions seemed like the most direct course of action. With her parents gone she had no money to hire mercenaries or body guards and Vilkas was the only person in this country that she knew. And even he wouldn't have cause to help her for no reason, he was a sword for hire after all. If she was to have any hope of finding out what had happened to her sister she would have to find her on her own and in order to do that, she'd have to protect herself. It was a simple enough solution in her head, but what if Vilkas was right? She was certainly not a warrior, and even if they agreed to teach her, could she learn? These doubts crept into her bones like a sickness as Tilma led her to meet Kodlak, and no amount of hot tea or dry clothes could keep her warm.


End file.
